


The Airstream

by Rose711



Series: Michael Guerin Week 2020 [5]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Home, Hopeful Ending, Longing, M/M, Reminiscing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:09:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26584171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose711/pseuds/Rose711
Summary: The one where Michael reminisces about the important life moments that happened in the airstream.Written for Day 5 of Michael Guerin Week 2020: Favorite Michael Location/"Just Trust Me"
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Series: Michael Guerin Week 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1927657
Comments: 6
Kudos: 57
Collections: Roswell New Mexico ▶ Michael Guerin / Alex Manes





	The Airstream

Michael sighed and sat on the edge of his bed, stretching out his legs only halfway as they hit the cabinets in front of him. Looking to his right he thumbed at the contents of the box resting against his side before giving the airstream another scan.

The airstream had seen better days. A big storm had rolled through a couple weeks ago causing the roof to leak for the first time in years. A quick fix seemed to have done the trick until another storm brought torrential rains and winds, causing not only the roof to fail but a couple windows to get blown out and their supports to bend. The repairs would take time especially with the colder temperatures and waning hours of sunlight, so Alex had offered Michael the cabin to stay in. 

Michael refused at first, but Alex kept asking. When he seemed to be getting nowhere, he went to Isobel. And when Isobel went to Michael, Michael knew the decision was no longer his to make.

Looking around the airstream, the tears welled up. He felt an immense sense of pride in it. He had given himself what others refused to – a home. After his life changed his senior year, he worked his ass off at Foster’s Ranch, saving every penny he didn’t spend on alcohol. If he was going to live a shitty life it would at least be under a roof of his own. When he saw the airstream in the junkyard - abandoned, a bit rusty, the insides far from perfect – he knew it was his. Old man Sanders made him a deal that he wouldn’t do anything to it or let anyone buy it until Michael came up with the money, he even gave him a discount when he promised to stop by once a week to do some odd jobs. The day Michael purchased it from Sanders was one for the books and he remembered it like it was yesterday. Bright blue sky, a perfect desert breeze, he heard a rumor that Alex would be on leave in a few weeks and may show up in town, and he could have sworn he saw Sanders smile for the first time as he handed over an envelope of cash. As he pulled it to the Ranch, he sang along to the radio at the top of his lungs. He didn’t need anyone else’s help, love or support. He was capable of providing everything on his own.

The airstream was his, but Michael always felt it was partially for Alex as well. He didn’t know if Alex would ever see the airstream or even come back to Roswell, but if he did he wanted there to be a place he could go to and feel safe. 

“Wanna go for a ride?” Michael had asked Alex when they locked eyes in the Wild Pony parking lot, Alex having just gotten home on leave, not even having seen Maria yet. 

“Always.” Alex looked different but nothing else had changed. They easily fell into their old ways. 

When Alex realized they weren’t driving out to their spot in the desert, he grew inquisitive. “Just trust me,” Michael implored with a smile. 

“Always,” Alex reassured him as he grabbed his hand and slid over on the bench seat, their thighs just barely touching. 

Michael had felt so nervous bringing Alex to the airstream. It wasn’t the home he wanted to give him and he was afraid Alex would see him as trailer trash. But as they climbed out and Michael announced it was all his, Alex’s smile could have lit up the entire world. He led Michael into the airstream and begged for the grand tour, “and make sure you show me where the magic happens.”

Alex had made Michael’s home his as often as he could while he was on that leave and others, and Michael wouldn’t have it any other way. They spent hours and hours and days and days worshipping each other in the airstream, making some of the most beautiful memories. They confessed their fears and planned their future, dreamed of what their world could be. 

But they also fought as hard as they played, and the airstream floor was covered in the stains of Michael’s tears from throughout the years. Every time Michael felt ruined by Alex walking away, he thought of the hate he wanted to spew at him and the way he wanted to kiss him and make him never want to leave. 

He never did either. Instead he drowned his sorrow in alcohol and work. The airstream was home to some of his most important and fulfilling, yet frustrating, work. He would lay in bed for hours thinking about “home” and making plans for how to get there and what he would do when he arrived. He stayed up late chatting with conspiracy theorists on forums who would lead him to the dark web where he could buy pieces of the console. He gathered pieces of his history and made up stories about where he was from, trying to fill the emptiness in his chest. The airstream became littered with calculations and information, becoming more of a workshop than a home. 

Although the workshop eventually moved to the bunker in Sander’s junkyard, the airstream was where he did the majority of his thinking when it came to his past. It was also the place where he realized all the work he had done for a decade, all the time and money he spent trying to get “home,” may be for naught as he mourned the death of his mom and Max within days of each other. The home he had bought for himself bore the brunt of his guilt; plates and glasses were thrown across the trailer, doors kicked in, cabinets slammed shut so hard the doors fell off. His anger and sadness got out of control so often that for weeks his powers would get the best of him until he sobbed uncontrollably and fell asleep, sometimes in his bed, sometimes sitting against the counter on the floor.

He wasn’t the only one though who’s tears were shed in the confines of the airstream’s curved walls. Everyone always knew where to find him, and Isobel tried to make herself a constant presence. They were family and she wanted to make sure he knew that. But the airstream was also a place to escape for her, a haven for her to go when she couldn’t be the fake person she tried to be. When she found out the truth about the night Rosa died and when Noah kicked her out, Michael readily gave her his bed and comforted her any way he could while his heart broke. He did the same after Noah died, providing her a space where she could grieve for the relationship she once had while staying in sweet denial about Max’s death. 

But despite Michael’s mind trying to tell him otherwise at times, not all memories were wrapped up in sadness and pain. Isobel insisted on regular family nights after Liz left Max and the town, and the airstream became the central location for them. Although the nights usually started with more than a few melancholy looks from Max, they were soon filled with laughter and storytelling around a campfire. The siblings became closer each passing day, and Max or Isobel often showed up on the tiny front steps with breakfast, a six pack or an invitation. Michael may have cursed at them a few too many times and slammed the door shut a little too quickly, but he always had to fight back a little smile and he always felt what others would probably say was gratitude and love. 

And hope. Sitting on the edge of his bed one night, Michael stopped letting his anger rule his decisions. He held the photo of himself and Alex in the dessert and made a silent promise that he would make the boy in the picture proud. As he gently laid the photo next to him on the bed, he brought his covered left hand in front of him, staring at the dark bandana. His right hand met his left and slowly began to unwrap the cloth. As the bandana fell away completely, Michael closed his eyes and memories flashed before him. The shed. The murders. Alex. Fights. Pain while doing menial tasks. Alex. Hookups. Repair of the hand without his consent. Alex. Playing guitar again. Realizing what he wanted. 

Alex.

It was in the airstream that Michael planned his future. His future on Earth. He wanted a house, one that would have his architectural touches all over it. He wanted a huge dining room table, big enough for everyone he loved plus whoever else would enter their lives over the coming years. He wanted a yard that he would create a garden in, that his airstream, which would be a workshop, would be housed in, that the kids could play in. He wanted a dog running around making a mess, barking at the mailman to protect the family. He wanted a dad band, name to be determined, that would play weekly at the Wild Pony and all town fundraisers. And he wanted that future with Alex. 

Michael wiped a tear that was about to fall. He looked around the airstream, truly looking at it. The newspapers over the windows were yellowed and torn, the floorboards replaced several times over and still uneven, the counter tops scratched and dented nearly beyond repair. He couldn’t stop the tears from falling and he didn’t want to. This was his first true home, one of the first places that he felt he belonged, the first place he couldn’t get thrown out of.

The airstream was a constant, the only constant in his life the past decade. And it would continue to be a part of him. But it was the past, and it is time to move forward.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> Tumblr: [ theviewofmylife ](https://theviewofmylife.tumblr.com/)


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